The Only Place My Brain Finally Goes Quiet

I seem to have developed a habit where anytime I am on the ferry headed home after a week away with my family in the place that makes me most relaxed on this planet - tears well in my eyes.

There is something romantic about the ferry. Something romantic about the small smattering of people gathered on the shore waving as the boat takes off. My son always says “we’re on the titanic!” at full volume - please no bud. But also, it does feel special…

I’m not quite sure what possessed me a few winters ago to convince my husband that we needed to spend 7 nights and 8 days on a remote island in Lake Michigan as a family in order to bond and feel relaxed joy and utter summer magic but something in me had a deep deep pull to do it.

We quite literally live where people vacation in summer, so I needed to find a place that felt like ours, that felt like the “90’s summer” we’re all dreaming of, that felt slow and quiet and most importantly … where we could go and I could fully turn off the tabs in my brain for just a week.

There is nothing earth shattering about this place. And perhaps what we need most as people who are stretched thin and exhausted is a place where we don’t feel the need to do more, and in fact; when I am on Beaver Island I feel it is the only slice of time in my year where I am ok doing a lot less, like practically nothing.

I start my days with coffee early on the porch looking out on Lake Michigan, listening to birds and sitting in utter silence. We run to town, plan our meals for the day, find a beach, adventure on a long drive, go see a big rock (literally), cruise around somewhere beautiful and always seem to land at Daddy Franks for ice cream and end the day around the bonfire.

It’s not lost on me that what I find here is what so many people find in Northern Michigan towns like Petoskey, Traverse City, Leelanau, Suttons Bay, Walloon Lake, Harbor Springs, you name it - but the difference is; in those places there is a lot to do there’s fancy restaurants and shopping and options and endless creature comforts. Here, there is exactly what you need and nothing else.

Two nights before we are set to go home the sads creep in for my kids. Especially my oldest, “I am already sad to go” he says as I tuck him in his bed that has sand on the sheets and his feet should maybe be cleaner and everything smells like bug spray a bit but I’ve checked them for ticks and he had 2 s’mores at 8pm so life is good…

My littlest one asks every day when we are in town “are we going back to the Beaver Island house or our real home” I reply “the rental house, here on the Island” “YAYYYY” she shouts in the backseat. They too feel the magic, but I’m convinced what they feel is our energy, Matt and I down shifting to parents who are able to nap and read books and color endlessly, not like our usual ships in the night passing one another in the driveway to manage the summer work load.

Perhaps what is best for all of us, is this is not a place with attractions to fill the days that feel commercialized. There is zero ‘over stimulation’ here. They spend hours looking for rocks and doing crafts and trying to skip rocks. We swim at the beach and the water temperature is 58 degrees. They fall asleep all sharing a room talking about what flavor of ice cream they want the next day.

The million dollar question our friends and family ask us, “are you going to buy a house on the island?” and the second most popular one I get is “what are you up to when you’re there?” Here’s the answer to both: